Fires Of Mossflower
by AnvilBlue
Summary: The Redwall Warrior comes back from the southlands a changed beast. So begins the purification of Mossflower. ::working title::
1. 00 ::Prologue::

_**(Summary (ext.): **The Redwall Warrior comes back from the lands of Southsward a changed beast with a new purpose in life. So begins the purification of Mossflower and the downfall of Redwall Abbey.)_

_**-Fires Of Mossflower-**_

**_-Prologue__-_**

_The world was a swirl of lights and sound before, faces blurring as he felt himself roughly pushed and pulled onto a platform. Mind still reeling he found himself stumbling on unsure paws as they prodded him into place. Somebeast was yelling to the crowd, but he couldn't make out the words, the crowd melting into an undulating wave of fur and flesh._

_Staring at the crowd with a single, half-swollen eye he felt his stomach twisting into knots, the fur on the nape of his neck raising on end as he felt their stares. He could sense the hatred that radiated from their angry stares and immediately he averted his eyes as though he were a dibbun caught stealing candied chestnuts. Even in his dazed state, however, he knew it was for something far worse that he found himself there. Slowly he found his senses returning to him and he opened his eye to the crowd, but still their movements blurred their faces, the anonymity of the crowd having taken hold._

"_What…" He choked out softly and the speaker grew silent for a moment, moving to the prisoner's side and bringing his muzzle next to his ear._

"_Tis your execution…thought you would have figured that out by now," the speaker whispered softly in an almost kindly tone, as though they were sharing a bit of gossip over a bit of cordial, "Don't worry, you'll be in a far better place soon enough."_

"_Ex—execution? He—here?" he choked on the words as tasted the bile building up in the back of his throat, mixing with taste of blood now omnipresent on his tongue._

"_Aye, never would have thought here of all places, but it tis so. They never suspected you before either, shocked a good lot of 'em, you did," the speaker's face was obscured by a veil of shadows as he moved before him, only his grin revealed by the sun._

"_Bu—but—" he began before the speaker cut him off with a raise of his paw._

"_For the benefit of others I should suggest that you stay silent now," the beast whispered, waving a paw across the crowd and there he found them._

_They were a small group at best, frozen in place as the crowd shifted around them, all of their eyes focused upon him, but there was no hatred in their eyes. There was pity and fear, but no anger and slowly he found the world darkening, the sun's last rays reaching far across the field in which they stood._

_He wanted to ask for their forgiveness for whatever transgression had brought him there, he wished to ask for their help, but he knew they could not as the shadow of the mob swirled about them ruthlessly. To help them would mean certain death, he could see it lurking in the crowd, shadowbeasts much like the speaker himself, all of them standing beside the innocents. They stood, isolated and chained by their inaction._

"_Shall I assume that I have your cooperation then?" the speaker snickered softly before raising both paws to the crowd, the movement seeking as everything beyond the wooden platform seemed to fade into the shadows. "Justice shall be served this day!"_

_A cry of approval erupted from the darkness, hundreds of eyes watching them from the unseen depths of the shadow. Steadily rose a thumping of weapons on shields as they waited for what was to happen next. They urged it along as he was grabbed forcefully and slammed against a post, a bag forced over his head as he felt a rope bite into his neck, the cries of the crowd growing ever louder._

_"But justice shall not end with these walls!" the crowd grew louder at this statement, a bloodlust growing amongst the mob, "We shall bring justice to all of Mossflower for the righteous! The scum of the earth shall do right to tremble this day!"_

_With that he felt the floor beneath his footpaws give way, his breath caught in his throat as the rope held him suspends and suddenly all fell silent. All that could be heard was his soft choking coughs as his lungs cried for air, limbs thrashing out in vain against the rope that bound them. Then, as his body spasmed and shook its last a great cry went up in Redwall Abbey._

_It was the cry of victory…_

---

"Whoa, whoa…settle down there!" the voice spoke in a soft, calming voice as he felt a pair of arms pinning him down as he thrashed his limbs wildly, trying to get free.

"Can't breathe! Can't breathe!" he repeated over and over, the air caught in his throat. Suddenly, he found himself free and he crashed to the stone covered floor, gasping for breathe as they stood about him, whispering softly.

"Jus' breathe, Kyin! Calm…" the voice spoke softly and slowly he regained his senses. Glancing up from the floor he found himself on the floor of the infirmary, a pair of otters as well as the infirmary keeper standing around him with worried expressions upon their face. Slowly air found its way back into Kyin's lungs as he stood up shakily, the otter's paws on his shoulders for support. "Better now?"

"Yeah…" Kyin answered in a strained whisper, still unsure of his surroundings.

"Can't say I've ever seen a beast do that afore…must 'ave been one hell of a nightmare, eh?" One of the otter's whom Kyin now recognized as his uncle, the Skipper of Otters. The other otter remained a mystery to him, the female having set about straightening out the bed.

"Truly," the old infirmary hog muttered, now cleaning up the mess of books that Kyin had knocked off the nearby shelf, "Haven't ever seen a beast have that sort of reaction to such a lil' bump on the noggin."

"Bump?" he asked, running a paw through his headfur to find a small patch of raised flesh towards the back of his skull.

"Don't remember, eh?" the hedgehog muttered, glancing up at Kyin with an eyebrow cocked, "Ye fell out of the ol' apple tree in the orchard, branch came down wit ye too. Near knocked yer brain out of yer head…didn't think it did that much damage."

"I s'pose ye best keep 'im overnight then, marm," Skipper decried, a thwack of his rudder on the floor sealing Kyin's fate.

"Aye, I suppose that would be best, if only as a precaution," the hedgehog agreed, nodding her head as she helped Kyin back onto the back from which he had fallen, the sheets having been straightened, "Don't worry yer little head now, dear, Maleah will be here to watch over for the night."

"Sounds…okay…" Kyin whispered as he closed his eyes again, the energy having been drained from his body, the ottermaid pulling the sheets about his neck.

"Aye, I'll be here all night, so jus' git yerself a bit o' shut eye," the ottermaid confirmed as the world slipped away once more into shadows.

---

_There stood a mouse before him, beckoning the otter. A gentle light seemed to emanate from the mouse, drawing him closer as shadows swirled about his footpaws. A soft voice whispered unintelligible in the back of his mind, but he ignored it, moving towards the mouse until he drew to within only of few yards of the creature and it disappeared into darkness, taking the light with it and leaving but a single word._

_"Run…"_

**_(updated 3-13-07)_**


	2. 01 ::Twilight Tavern::

_**-Fires Of Mossflower-**_

**_- Part One – The Twilight Tavern_-**

It was the beginning of the twilight, the crickets had just begun to sing their melodies as the moon rose steadily into the sky, shining brightly above the patched forests of southern Mossflower. The sun had only just dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow over the world as the daylight faded away behind the distant northern mountains. The light finally had began to fade past the point of being work the land, the last of the farmers calling it a day as pulled in their equipment for the next morn.

The paths through the woods were all but clear this time of the day, most beasts having already long since gone along their way, leaving them nearly devoid of life. However, down one such path—on the southernmost edge of the woods—a lone ratmaid made her way, grumbling softly as she dug through a large she had thrown over her shoulder.

"Aww…c'mon, I know I have it 'round 'ere somewhere," She muttered darkly, gnashing her teeth out of frustration. Mumbling unintelligibly, she cursed some unknown beast that she just knew hid the object of her frustrations.

_Why couldn't you have been just a bit bigger so I wouldn't have to lose you every other day? _She muttered silently to the lost key. Suddenly her eyes brightened with the joy of success as her paw felt the cool metal of the key in the depths of the bag.

"Ha, ha! Gotcha!" she grinned as she removed her paw from the bag, claws grasping a small, silver key, "I'm goin' ta have ta tie ye to me wrist, ain't I?"

The path upon which she walked went through one of the sparser bits of Mossflower Wood, the last bits of sunlight having little trouble penetrating the trees as they cast long shadows across the dirt floor of the forest. Glancing up, the maid halted for a moment before looking behind her.

_Whoops, bit too far…_ She thought to herself quietly, jogging back along the path until she found her marker, a small wooden sign that was half-obscured by a lone bush.

"There we go…" Moving with far more confidence now that she had her bearings, she made her way to a particularly old oak tree only a few yards off the beaten path. Fumbling with the key for a moment she quietly slid it into a nearly indistinguishable lock hidden beneath the tree's exposed roots and with a gentle push a small door opened up to reveal a small kitchen.

"Sheryl," a voice called from within the kitchen as she closed the door quickly behind her, "Is that you?"

"Aye, tis me, " The ratmaid replied, rolling her eyes in advance for what was coming.

"Well, tis 'bout time ye got here! Wot took ye so damn long?" As the maid turned to face her boss she was nearly knocked unconscious as the owner of the voice swung a spatula wildly. "Wot d'ye think I'm payin' ye for? It ain't fer skippin' 'round Mossflower pretty as ye please." Her boss, a weasel of somewhat reduced stature, yelled out, doing an exaggerated skip as the ratmaid simply looked on. She knew well that these outbursts seldom amounted to anything more than a rap on the paw and even then it ended up being

"Aye, I'll be here earlier next time. Don't worry yer little head 'bout it." Sheryl replied as she casually grabbed an apron off one of the hooks near the door, taking on a motherly tone.

"Don' take that sort o' tone wit me, missy," The weasel hissed, giving her one last glare before returning to his work, a pot of dove soup from the smell of it and a bit overdue by the sound of it bubbling over.

"Beldin already out there?" She asked as she passed by the weasel knowing that he had spent his anger on his little tirade.

"Aye," the weasel grumbled softly, concentrating hard on the heavily boiling pot as he carefully added in a bit of a red, powdery substance.

"Good," the ratmaid replied, smiling to herself as she entered the main part of the building, a relatively sizable tavern by Mossflower standards. Even at twilight it was already bustling with activity and beasts of all sorts milled about.

"Ah, Sheryl. Good ta see that ye finally decided ta show up," Beldin greeted her, using a much more affable tone than their boss had. The ferret was busy filling up a pair of mugs from the bottles that sat beneath the bar counter, mainly ale, but a bit of grog for the occasional searat that happened upon the tavern. "Wot took ye so long, anyways? Thought fer a moment that mayhap you abandoned us fer better things," the ferret asked with a sly smile.

"Don' worry. There ain't any better things fer me. 'Sides, why would I abandon me best mate," Sheryl replied with a bright smile, clapping the ferret on the back as she surveyed the bar floor. It was perhaps only half full, most of the tables filled with farm beasts, drinking a bit before they went home to their families. "So, 'ow's the crowd been treatin' ya?"

"Oh, not too bad I s'pose. At least we haven't 'ad the rough crowd yet," the ferret answered, pausing for a moment to slide the two mugs he had been filling down the bar to a pair of foxes sitting at the end.

"How'd the mornin' treat yah?" She asked in return, collecting of few of the empty mugs left on the counter.

"Actually, it's bin pretty quiet 'round 'ere. Good weather I guess. Everybeast's enjoyin' the sunshine 'stead of drinkin' away their sorrows. Tis bad fer business, but good fer us I s'pose," Beldin continued, a sarcastic smile on his face as he took a shot of whisky, his little reward for the hour.

"Yeah, Prolly 'cause o' the weather. Certainly was a pretty day out there, doncha think?" the ratmaid asked, her smile fading as the ferret gave her a look a mild aggravation.

"It was a pretty day, wasn't it...Tis a shame ta be stuck in 'ere for most o' it," Beldin grumbled softly, leaning against the wall as the patrons were temporarily sated, thankful for the momentary rest.

"Why would you stay here all day?" Sheryl asked as she continued to prepare herself, taking out a serving tray and a small stack of cloth out from beneath the bar top, "Somethin' wrong? Somebeast sick or somethin'?"

"Nah, nothin' like that. It's jus' that I had ta pull a double shift. Sam never showed an' nobeast knows quite whereabouts 'e is. Tis probably for the better." Beldin said, pausing for a moment to grin sadistically at Sheryl. "I'd 'ave ta wring 'is neck an' use 'is hide fer new boots after all! Twelve hours standin' ain't good fer the ol' footpaws, y'know."

"Oh well, you'll jus' have ta settle fer stickin' 'im with double shifts tomorrow." Sheryl replied with an equally sadistic as both chuckled to themselves, the though of Sam getting his was enough to satisfy their 'bloodlust'.

"Aye, that I'll do fer certain," the ferret decried in soft voice before returning to the bars, taking his cue from the rather large stoat that had sat down in front of him.

"Anyways, I best be getting' ta work afore I give 'im anymore ta squeal abouts," the ratmaid said, jabbing a claw in the direction of the kitchen before she set about her work, eying a new group of customers flooding into the tavern.

---

It was quite a while later when things really livened up. The sun had long since set, the moon hanging high above in the sky as the seemingly omnipresent crowd—much of which consisted of the various standard undesirables of society—began to flood into the tavern. It was the witching hour of the 'scum of the earth'—as many beast referred to them—that roamed Mossflower Wood during the daylight and drank to their hearts content when the moon hung high in the sky, much to their stomach's dismay.

Singing, fighting and drinking the night away until leaving as the first rays of sunshine graced the newfound day, many of them would spend their night passed out on the splintered wooden floor of the tavern. It was normal for a real bad fight to break out, but it would almost always dissolve into two beasts taking horribly misguided swings at one another until both collapsed as they seldom fought while still sober.

However, among the regular crowd came a small group—perhaps no more then six or seven beasts in all—wearing identical outfits. Each beast was perfectly disguised by the baggy, gray cloaks they all wore, not even their species was immediately recognizable, their hoods all pulled down so that all anybeast could see of them was a faint sliver of their eyes staring out. Not completely out of the ordinary of course—roving bands of assasins sometimes used such guises as a means of intimidation—but they moved with far more confidence than expected and a serious lack of stealth.

"Will ye get a load o' that?" Sheryl commented loudly to Beldin as she loaded her tray full of drinks, watching with an undisguised curiosity. Everybeast's movements were seemingly choreographed as the group slipped into a booth quietly. "A bit odd, wouldn't ye say, Beldin?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, odd…yeah," Beldin muttered rapidly, unable to really pay any attention to the ratmaid as a trio of weasels shouted their orders angrily, that being quite enough distraction as he attempted to maintain order along the bar.

"Fine, ye dun hafta listen ta me," Sheryl muttered to herself, shrugging off the weasel's cold shoulder in a somewhat joking way since, after all, he was rather busy.

Dodging through the crowd that clogged the tavern, the ratmaid her way slowly towards the new group of beasts, using her tray to defend herself from the packs of vermin that seemed to move like the River Moss over the tavern floor. Finally getting to the table the maid put on her brightest smile, absentmindedly smudging a bit of alcohol that was settling into her apron.

"An' how're you gentlebeasts doin' tonight? Get ya anythin' ta drink?" She asked in a cheerful voice, but almost immediately her mood seemed to darken as the group glanced up at her with what seemed to be a look of restraint, a feeling of malice seeming to radiate from their eyes. They were goodbeasts, every last one of them filled with anxiety, paws itching as they held onto the hilts of their weapons hidden beneath the tabletop. They seemed to be sizing up the other beasts in the tavern, itching for a fight, but restraining themselves even if it were only just barely. However, unlike the others, one beast in particular—a mouse a bit on in his seasons—seemed to be absolutely at ease, most likely the leader of his little band.

"I s'pose that we'll have a round of mead if it ain't too much trouble fer ye, miss." the mouse replied in a soft spoken voice, giving her an insincere smile as he sized her up with his eyes as a potential threat while she did the same.

"All right, sirs. I'll have those back to ya in jus' a moment or two," returning the insincere grin, Sheryl backed away from the table as quickly as she could without tripping over her own paws. She noticed that each beast did indeed have a paw to a weapon; the gleam of steel from within their cloaks was unmistakable. As she turned to make here way to the bar she could feel their eyes upon her, scrutinizing her movements for any sign of alarm, but she gave them none until she was well hidden within the crowd, a shiver running down her spine. Dodging quickly she shoved her way to the bar, her claws digging into the wooden top as anxiety flooded her mind, going over the possibilities.

_Oh c'mon, Sheryl. You've served goodbeasts before…Why are ye getting' so worried about nothin'? They're goodbeasts…o' course they'd 'ave their weapons ready in a place like this… _The ratmaid thought, unable to tell why the group scared her so terribly. It seemed to almost be a sixth sense of sorts, _They need ta protect themselves after all…_

_Bad beasts come this way…you should run… _That seemed to be the message her subconscious was sending to her; short and simple enough, but still lacking in the most basic sense. Perhaps it was merely the light of determination that seemed to shine in all of their eyes, it was the sense of purpose, the air of duty that had her frightened. _They've never come in lookin' so damned determined before...never…normally look like they're about ta faint surrounded by so many vermin._

"Sheryl!" Beldin's voice shook the maid from her thoughts as he waved a paw in front of her face as the ferret tried to get her attention, "Ye all right, Sheryl?" he asked, placing a paw on her shoulder.

"Huh? Oh…um…yeah. I think…" The ratmaid paused for a moment, shaking off her worries and fears, wanting to rid them from her thoughts before she said anything else. "Jus' them beasts in the corner. Beasts 'ave me a bit nervous is all…"

"Why? That group o' searats come back lookin' fer trouble again?" Beldin asked, standing on the tips of his footpaws as he tried to see over the crowd to no avail.

"Nah, t'ain't nothin'…jus' this group o' goodbeasts—couple o' mice an' otters I think—acting all cloak an' dagger," She paused for a moment as Beldin gave her a look of disbelief, crossing his arms as he smiled at her softly. "It's jus' cause they seem all ready fer trouble an' all…" She finished, her words fading into unintelligible mumblings as she glared up at Beldin, the ferret merely chuckling at the maid's fears.

"Aww…c'mon, Sheryl. Look around yerself. Anybeast comin' 'roud this tavern at this hour o' the night 'as got ta be prepared fer battle. Hellsgates…we might as well jus' give in a dig a pit right in the middle o' the floor an' jus' let 'em at each other." Beldin said, waving a paw towards the crowd where it was obvious by the shouts that at least one fight was taking place while they were talking, "Hell, that'd be a great idea, ought ta tell the boss 'bout it…dinner an' a show, what d'ye think?"

"T'ain't funny, Beldin," she said with a glare as the ferret let out a soft chuckle. Giving the maid a reassuring smile as he filled a pair of mugs, Beldin thought for a moment before sliding the mugs down the bar to a weasel couple at the far end of the bar.

"All right. I'll tell ye what. How 'bout you get their drinks to them an' then take a break. Cole ought ta be here any moment an' the fresh air probably would do ya a world o' good. An' if you're still nervous I can always ask 'em ta leave. Y'know, fer their own safety with this lot about," the ferret gesturing to the crowd of beasts, the sounds of a scuffle floating up from the far corner of the tavern, "Sound good to you?"

"Yeah…it's probably nothin' anyways…" Sheryl replied, giving a sideways glance at the crowd, catching a tiny glimpse of the goodbeasts. All of them seemed so passive, hardly threatening at all, but still the air of mystery hung over them, seeming to mask their intents. "Well, they wanted a round o' mead…I think six ought to do it."

"Here, jus' give 'em a pitcher so you can take a breather. Ought ta hold them fer a while," Beldin told her in a mock voice of authority, setting a tall pitcher as well as six mugs, the contents spilling over as he set filled them quickly.

"Thanks, Beldin." She replied with a smile, giving the ferret a quick hug before wondering how on earth she was to get them through the crowd without making too much of a mess.

_Oh well, tis a challenge I s'pose… _She muttered silently to herself, opting to take the long way to the table, skirting the edge of the crowd until she reached the goodbeasts table.

"All right, sirs. Here's yer drinks an' if ye need anything else you can jus' find me or go up ta the bar an' ask Beldin." Sheryl smiled brightly, putting on the same cheerful façade as before. "Oh an' ye might want ta keep yerselves low-key…jus' with this sort," She finished in a quieter tone, receiving the same insincere courtesy as before from the mouse, but still the maid felt a little bit reassured. The group didn't really seem to be doing anything really sinister, nothing alarming at all as they simply sat there nursing their drinks.

**  
**"Was nothin' at all…just nothin' at all…"Sheryl whispered to herself as she moved back through the crowd, pushing herself out the back door just in time to nearly be run over a weasel that was just coming in. Pressing herself up against the cellar door where the tavern's excess of alcohol was stored she dodged him easily, slugging the weasel playfully as he passed, scolding him for nearly toppling her.

"Geez, sorry 'bout that, Sheryl. Didn't 'ave ta hit me though." The young weasel apologized sheepishly as he stopped short of the kitchen, rubbing his arm profusely, face scrunched up in a look of mock pain.

"O' course I did, Cole. Ye can't be runnin' over beasts like that. Didn' yer momma ever teach you any manners." Sheryl scolded him, stopping herself just within the doorframe to talk.

"Well, o' course she did, beat 'em into me she did!" the weasel chirped jokingly.

"So, 'ow are ye doin'?" the ratmaid asked, a soft smile gracing her face, holding the door open to allow the cool night air to flow in.

"Oh, I'm doin' all right. T'would Be better if'n I didn't 'ave ta work, but ya know 'ow it goes." The weasel joked quietly as he plucked a smock from underneath the counter, "No work, no eatin' 'round my house.

"Aye. G'luck wit that crowd in there," Sheryl advisedhim, but lucky for the two, their boss had already long since departed, since nobeast really desired anything more then simple dishes at such a late hour and they could more than stand up to that task.

"Goin' on break?"

"Yeah, dun worry 'bout it though. I'll be back soon enough ta come to yer rescue. Jus' getting' some fresh air is all," Sheryl said with a small grin, tossing her apron onto one of the counters that lined the kitchen before slipping out the back door just before it closed.

_Tis a pretty night all right… _Sheryl whispered to herself silently, staring up at the grandiose moon that hung high above the world, an unattainable crystal orb stuck there in the sky to infuriate those who would strive for it. Wandering along the back wall of the tavern—most of which was well disguised by the oak and bits of ivy—the ratmaid found herself a nice place to sit and rest on top of a small pile of firewood stacked on the side of the stove's smoke stack.

"So nice an' quiet out 'ere…" She muttered, yawning as she stared out into the barely lit forest, the tavern casting its shadow over her. Easing herself onto the logs so that they wouldn't roll about too much, she made herself comfortable, waiting for Beldin to call her back into the tavern.

**_(Updated 3-14-07)_**


	3. 02 ::To Return::

_**-Fires Of Mossflower- **_

_**-Part Two – To Return-**_

"How long do you think he's going to take in there?" A voice asked, somewhere from deep within the forest, stirring Sheryl from her unintentional slumber. Somewhat aggravated, Sheryl looked about for the origin of the voice, but alas she found only darkness. "It shouldn't take this long to judge scum like this," the voice continued with a soft hiss.

_Judge? What in the name o' Hellgates is goin' on out there? _Sheryl wondered to herself, remaining silent as she continued to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Have patience. They must be judged with equality or else we are no better then they," Another replied, seeming to almost scold the first beast as they conversed in soft tones, nearly indistinguishable from the soft night breeze, "I have to agree though, it shouldn't have taken this long…"

"Think that they've been found out?" the first asked in a voice laced with anxiety as well as an almost overwhelming eagerness.

"This sort?" the second replied with a snort of indifference, "No, he'd never allow such simpletons to realize. Once they are judged he'll give the signal and we will move and not a moment before."

_What the hell? _The rat maid wondered, peering into the darkness as the forest once again fell silent, but it was only for a moment as a shrill whistle suddenly cut through the air from somewhere within the tavern.

"Aww…hellsgates, mate…Why'd ye 'ave ta go an be loud like that?" a angry growl emanated from within the tavern in response to the whistle, presumably somebeast with a premature hangover.

"Guilty." The second voice stated simply and suddenly the forest was alive with movement, what seemed like countless dozens of beasts emerged from the darkness of the forest. They encircled the tavern and at least half of them crowded around the tavern doors and windows, waiting for something.

_Wot in the name of the seasons is going on… _As silence fell over the forest once more, even within the tavern everything seemed to have fallen into silence until a booming voice echoed through the night air. Unable to understand the beast, Sheryl eased herself towards the back door, hiding just around the corner from where the shadow beasts stood.

"Upon this night you have all been tested. Every last beast within these walls has been scrutinized and found unworthy of the lives you lead," the beast paused for a moment as a few of the more inebriated beasts laughed off the apparent judgment of their worth, "You have all been found guilty of crimes against the creator. Your taint upon these lan-"

"Aw…go dump yerself in a river, mouse. Ye think that we 'aven't 'eard this afore from yer likes?" A voice shouted, interrupting the speaker mid-sentence, a few beasts laughing at this comment.

"The little blighter thinks he's Martin the Warrior, mates!" Another voice shouted, a new round of laughter taking a hold of the tavern goes. Then it fell silent again as Sheryl heard the sound of metal colliding with bone, followed by a loud thud.

"As I was saying," the mouse continued, frustration edging his voice, "your taint upon these lands is one that shall be suffered no more. I shall give you all a simple choice: leave these lands at once or be forced from them." He finished, allowing the threat to hang in the air, but of course nobeast could take the mouse seriously and a new round of laughter rang out.

"Aye, that's a good'un, mate an' I think we'll 'ave ta agree wit ya!" One voice called out above the laughter as Sheryl crept closer, reaching the back door where she could finally see what was going on within the tavern walls.

"Doncha know that stronger an' better beasts then you 'ave tried, mouse?" A shiver ran down her spine from nose to tail tip asSheryl watched the scene with abject curiosity. The cloaked beasts outside all seemed to tense for a moment before the sound of breaking glass heralded the first deaths of the night, all hell breaking loose inside as arrows flooded in through the now broken window panes.

"Mossflower!" the battle cry rang out as the arrows ceased, the dozens of vermin left over from the onslaught of arrows found themselves faced with a score of woodlanders flooding in through the front door, these beasts uncloaked and ready for battle. As the carnage began, Sheryl averted her eyes, throwing herself into the kitchen as more of the woodlanders flooded in through the back door. As soon as the flood seemed to stop she peered around the edge of the doorframe to find chaos before her, a pulsating mass of fur, flesh and blood filling the main area of the bar.

_Beldin! _Sheryl cried out silently as she saw the ferret ducking behind the bar, using a tray for protection as a slew of arrows flew through windows, hitting those beasts that had decided to try and escape through the broken glass. Moving quickly as silence was no longer necessary, the rat maid scurried into the tavern, hiding within the shadows, the lanterns having been knocked to the floor, flames extinguished.

_Damn it! Look back you bastard! Look! _She thought angrily to herself, desperate to get the ferret's attention, ripping off one of her shoes before throwing it at the weasel's shins.

_Get over here!_ She mouthed, the weasel giving her a fearful glance as he ducked down below the bar, a stray arrow hitting the wall where his head had been.

_The cellar…_ Beldin mouthed back, pointing to where the maid had come from and heeding this advice Sheryl crawled to the cellar door, opening it slowly and slipping within. Shaking with anxiety the ferret took his chance and made a mad dash to the cellar door, holding the tray over his exposed backside. Sheryl descended the stairway to make room only to have the ferret suddenly slam into her, both of them tumbling to the bottom, landing with a wet slap in a puddle of excess alcohol. Her head connecting solidly with the wooden floor of the cellar the maid found herself claimed by the darkness, the light from the door and the sounds of warfare fading as she lost consciousness.

---

"…About twenty-three beasts to them, sir," a voice stated unemotionally as Sheryl found herself coming to, her body aching all over as she groaned softly, her head throbbing steadily as she lifted herself a few inches only to find herself trapped beneath a great weight, unable to move further.

"Hmm…we shall have to rebuild our forces one we reach Redwall then, but that should not be to much of a problem…" another voice murmured, and slowly the ratmaid recognized the voice, "At least they have sacrificed themselves for a greater good. How many did they lose?"

_Who…_ Sheryl whispered silently to herself as footsteps echoed down the stairs. The light was too weak for her to see anything, but she could still feel how the alcohol had soaked her through her clothes and into her fur. For a few moments she couldn't quite remember why she was lying at the bottom of the stairs in a puddle of what smelled like mead. However, soon enough it came to her, only bits and pieces of the recent past, but they were enough reawaken the maid's fears.

"At the very least they lost a hundred. They should be done gathering the bodies soon and we have yet to search for supplies," it replied, the tone of disgust in its tone shaking Sheryl up a bit. The voices receded for a moment, presumably moving to the main part of the tavern rather than the kitchens, but Sheryl couldn't dwell on it for long as a sharp jolt of pain coursed through her arm as she tried to move once more, the weight lying on top of her not helping in the least as she realized her left arm was beyond being of any current use, the limb having been pulled from its socket.

_Beldin…you've got to start laying off the pigeon…_ It had to be him lying on top of her. Their tumble down the stairs had to have knocked the ferret out as well, he just hadn't found his way back to consciousness quite yet. Pushing at his limp body the maid tried to worm her way slowly to freedom, trying to avoid using her left arm as she ran into the side of a distilling barrel. Grabbing onto the shelf on which the barrel rested she used it to get herself into a sitting position, gritting her teeth as she freed her useless arm.

"Now for the painful part…" the rat maid muttered to herself as she bit into her shirtsleeve as she grasped her dislocated arm with her paw. Drawing in a few ragged breaths she bit into the fabric hard as she yanked on the limb, twisting it back into place with a single deft moment, her cry of pain muffled by her shirt as she collapsed to the floor, suddenly out of breath as she clutched her arm in a futile attempt to stifle the pain coursing through the limb.

"Have you stripped them of their weapons?" it was the mouse again, his voice taking on the same tone that he had used when condemning everybeast within the tavern as Sheryl struggled to free the rest of her body from beneath the ferret's unmoving form.

"Yes, sir…" the voice paused for a moment, trying to choose its words carefully, "However, there is the matter of those we have taken alive. Thirteen were found unconscious and nineteen injured, some beyond saving. Nobeast can say for sure that all of them fought."

"Good, determine the extent of the injury to the wounded and put those that need it out of their misery, the rest we shall have to judge individually," The mouse responded, voice devoid of concern, a silent chuckle seeming to underscore his words.

"Very good sir, but what of the tavern?"

"Burn it. Burn it down so that it may take this scum to the gates of Hell with it." The mouse ordered after a mere moment of thought. A cold chill coursed through her body as she freed the rest of her body. Sheryl stood slowly before using her right arm to drag the ferret's body back towards the stairs, the voices upstairs fading away for a moment.

"Beldin, wake up!" She hissed quietly as she reached the bottom step, shaking the ferret as hard as she could with only one arm, his head flopping around as she did so.

_Damn it! Now ain't the time ta be sleepin'…_ She cursed, having resorted to kicking his body with her footpaws, tears of frustration running from her eyes as nothing seemed to do any good. A tiny little thought had been playing itself over and over in the back of her mind, pushed back as far as she could so that she wouldn't have to deal with the possibility.

_He's dead…simple as that…and you even saw it…didn't you? _The memory came back, floating to the surface from its prison deep within her mind. She had turned, heading down the stairs when she turned to see Beldin tumbling after, red filling the air as a blade dug itself deep into the back of the ferret's skull, his eyes rolling upwards as he fell to the cavern floor.

"Damn it, Beldin…why couldn't you jus' have been faster…" she mumbled softly to herself as she ran a paw through the ferret's head fur in the same way a mother would to her child. She felt the cold steel there, a small axe transfixed in the back of his skull.

_Damn you and your pigeons…_ The ferret had probably almost ducked beneath it, almost made it, but at the very least his death had been quick and hopefully relatively painless. However, this fact held little comfort for the maid as she growled softly.

"Damn you…" she cursed the body lying in her arms, the blood staining her clothes even futher as the pungent aroma of death greeted her nostrils.

_Damn bastards…why did they do this? Beldin ne'er did nothin' ta nobeast… _She thought to herself, glaring up at the empty stairway, tears of frustration turning to tears of anger as she held the hilt of the blade in a steely grip.

_He'd 'ave been useless as that sort…he was a gentlebeast… _Growling softly she tore the blade quite suddenly from her friend's skull, blood dripping from the top onto her forepaws as she did so. She wanted to kill the bastards that had done such a deed, she wanted to rip them from limb to limb, she wanted to watch them beg for mercy as their blood stained her paws. But of course, as with most beasts, the desire for revenge seldom carried with it much desire for planning, so she simply moved to the top of the stairs and waited for the first beast that opened the door. She could hear them just outside the door, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets, still looking for supplies.

"Aww…come on, this is a tavern! Where's the alcohol already?" the beast outside cried out in exasperation, slamming one of the cabinet doors in disgust, having only found flour and other such supplies, nothing of what he coveted to be found.

_Come on ye damned bastard, where d'ye think the alcohol is ya idjit…_ The rat maid growled silently, moving closer to the door in anticipation, hoping that the beast was truly as stupid as he had sounded.

"Ta hell with this," the beast cried out suddenly, Sheryl tensing as his pawsteps approached the door, and the stairs creaking softly as she edged up a few steps moved, "Let's see what we 'ave in here…"

_Keep coming… s_he commanded him silently as the door creaked open, the beast barely able to emit a squeak of surprise before the already bloodied blade dug into the side of his neck. The squirrel faltered for a moment on the top step, staring at the rat maid as she pulled the blade from his throat, allowing the blood to flow free. As she stepped to the side of the stairs, the squirrel's body crashed down the stairs to the floor of the cellar beside Beldin's with a resounding thud.

"Jerich! Are ye all right, mate?" a worried voice cried out as the squirrel disappeared from view, a new pair of pawsteps drawing closer, "Jerich? Quit messing around…this ain't a joke…"

_Keep coming, ye bastard! _Sheryl cried out in her mind, caution thrown to the wind after the first kill. Her body tensing as she swung again at the second beast as his pawsteps drew near enough. However, this one was far better prepared, catching her arm in mid-swing, allowing the maid only a pathetic scratch across the otter's shoulder before she found herself lifted from her footpaws and slammed her into the wall. The breat knocked from her lungs, her paw felt suddenly weak, the axe slipping from her grasp and clattering to the floor.

"Samuel!" The otter called out and soon enough a group surrounded them, all brandishing weapons as the leader; the mouse himself stepped from their ranks, his own sword drawn as well.

"Ah, Hagen, I see that you've caught another live one," The mouse said with a soft chuckle, eyes glaring at her despite the almost cheerful voice he used now.

"I think she killed Jerich, sir. Shall I execute her now?" The otter asked, ignoring the mouse's chuckle as he pressed his forearm into the rat maid's throat as she struggled feebly against him, trying to kick the beast wherever she could, the air being squeezed from her slowly.

"No," the mouse said simply, eying the rat maid as he sheathed his own weapon, a short sword complete with a jewel encrusted hilt, the sort given to a hero. "It was only petty revenge that drove such crimes. But surely, a female in a place like this? I say, I must doubt this ones purity. Vermin females in such places are seldom little more then whores, but I suppose that judgment should still be given," the mouse paused for a moment, stepping to within a few feet of the rat maid, smelling the mixture of blood and alcohol that stained her fur, "You'd like that, wouldn't you, rat?"

_Bastard, call me a whore…_ Sheryl thought angrily, wishing that she could spit in the mouse's face or better still, slice off the calm grin that was ever-present on his face, but she could only manage a glare, wincing as the otter's elbow was pressed even harder into her throat, choking for air.

"Take her outside," the mouse ordered, the otter dragging her out the back door by her wrist before slamming her onto the woodpile where she found herself under the watchful stare of a pair of archers, their arrows notched and aimed at her chest.. "So, rat. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"You're dead, mouse," she hissed softly before she felt the otter's fist connect solidly with he jaw, knocking her into the tavern's wall.

"Not a good answer, whore. Fancy ta try again?" the otter sneered, a bloodlust growing in his eyes, the barely restrained desire for revenge making certain that the next blow given would be the maid's last.

"Murderers…" the rat hissed again, paying little attention to the frothing otter whom pulled back his fist once more, intent on sending the ratmaid straight to hellgates with a single blow.

"Wait, Hagen…" The mouse muttered, holding the otter's arm back.

"Why?" the otter hissed, "She killed Jerich, why—"

"And I should have killed you as well!" she hissed in response, but cut her response short under the glare of the otter as he stood over her, shaking with rage as he raised his fist once more.

"She admits it, why should she need to explain herself…she's already guilty," the otter snarled as the mouse merely shook his head, pulling the otter closer so that he could whisper into the otter's ear. The otter stood for a moment, glaring at the rat before the mouse waved the brute away, leaving only the mouse and his archers beside her.

"I apologize, he is one of the younger ones, a bit too black and white with his judgments," the mouse explained in an almost fatherly tone, before turning his attentions to the rat, "So tell me, my dear. Why should I let you live?"

"You shouldn't, mouse…" she snarled, "My life means your death…"

"Ah…the impunity of youth, how I miss it…" the mouse whispered with a soft chuckle, "You seem to underestimate the situation you have placed yourself in as well as my generosity. Do not overestimate my patience however, that could be fatal," he let the threat hang in the air, his voice taking on a darker tone.

"What right do you have to life, scum?"

"And the kettle calls the pot black," the mouse whispered softly, "How 'bout we make a deal then, my dear? Since you appear to be lacking in words…"

"A deal?" the ratmaid snorted, rubbing the feeling back into the side of her muzzle, ignoring the mouse's veiled insult.

"I will give you a chance to earn your freedom," the mouse stated as a small group of cloaked beasts gathered near them, lifting the rat from the woodpile and setting her on the ground before the mouse, a sword poking into the maid's backside.

"What sort of chance?" the rat maid inquired nervously, the anger having subsided to a point where logic took the fore in her mind, self-preservation now her priority.

"Do you know where the Great Southstream flows?" the mouse asked, turning his back on the rat for the moment, glancing into the forest to the south.

"Aye…" she replied, her anxiety growing bit by bit.

"I will give you until the sun rises to reach it, if you are gone from these lands by daybreak then you have earned your life," the mouse finished with a nod, turning to the rat as she found herself suddenly free, an open path to the south having been revealed to her through the crowd of goodbeasts, "Go on, my dear, you only have so much time."

_I'll be back, Beldin…don't worry…_ Sheryl whispered silently to herself, staring into the tavern's back door, taking a few tentative steps forward before breaking into a run, disappearing into the darkness of the trees.

"Hagen!" the mouse called out, the otter returning to the mouse's side with an angry look still plain upon his features.

"You let her go?" the otter growled softly, his anger towards the mouse thinly veiled, "After what she did?"

"If you believe that I have done wrong, then perhaps you should give chase, my friend," the mouse replied, looking up with an utter lack of emotion as the other beasts about the pair departed, leaving them alone by the door.

"Sir?"

"Perhaps you should rectify my mistake then, Hagen," the mouse spoke in soft tones as he handed the bow as well as a full quiver of arrows to the otter whom received them with a soft grin.

"Yes, sir," the otter replied in a more subdued tone, bowing to the mouse before taking off into the forest after the ratmaid. The mouse remained silent for a few moments, staring at the spot where the otter had disappeared into the brush.

"You two, follow him and make sure that he succeeds," he began, everybeast about him straightening up to listen, "Torch this wretched place and let us continue on to Redwall." A cry of approval went up from the army and immediately they set about their work, the moon slowly setting as the horizon gradually began to redden with the first light of the new day.

---

Her lungs burned for oxygen and her legs cried out for a reprieve, but still she ran, darting through the brush as branches and thorns tore at her body. She cried out in pain as a rogue tree branch snagged her injured limb, but her momentum carried her through, her arm twisting as the branch tore at the ligaments in her shoulder.

_Almost there…_ she whispered to herself, her mind unfocused and her vision blurring as she finally heard the sound of the rushing river before her. She was so close she could almost feel the water coursing down her cracked throat, sating her need for rest, but as soon as she made it to the bank she felt something tackle her from behind.

"Got you!" she heard the creature cry out as they fell into the river, the beast holding her beneath the flow as she tried to free herself.

_Damn it, damn it, damn it… _she repeated over and over in her mind as she clenched her teeth together, her good arm grasping for some sort of leverage as she kicked at her attacker, her blows seeming to go unnoticed by her attacker. However, just as her vision began to swim with darkness the creature was gone and she found herself free, choking on the river water as she grasped for the bank. Choking and sputtering she lay with her belly to the ground for a while, the sun slowly piercing her eyes as the new day greeted her.

_Who…what…_ her mind was reeling as it tried to sort out what had happened, rationality struggling with instinct in an oxygen deprived brain.

"Are ye all right, marm?" somebeast inquired, a gentle paw rolling her onto her back so that she could breath more easily. Soon enough she had collected enough of herself to manage a few words.

"Who?" the ratmaid asked for moment, her vision blurred by the sun as she tried to see her supposed savior, and as her eyes adjusted she found herself staring into the concerned face of another rat, perhaps a few seasons older than she. Beyond him was a small group, most of them vermin save for a pair of squirrels and a rather ancient looking otter.

"First things first, ma'am. Are ye all right?" the rat asked again, helping Sheryl to a nearby rock so that she could sit down for a moment.

"I'm better now…" she replied, shifting her broken arm painfully into her lap, gripping the motionless limb in hopes of ending the throbbing pain that filled it. "Me name's Sheryl…"

"Jorgen, my name's Jorgen. Now don't worry…that'un ain't goin' ta be bothering you anymore," the rat said jerking his head towards the banks where her attacker lay motionless.

_The otter from the tavern…he followed me all this way…_she muttered silently to herself, staring into the otter's blank eyes, an arrow protruding from the side of his skull. Suddenly, a loud explosion cut through the morning serenity and in the distance they all saw a great cloud of black smoke rising in the north, obscuring the rising sun.

"They're 'ere all right," the rat muttered loudly, his companions nodding their heads at this declaration, the otter stepping forwards from the group.

"Then I suppose that we have our compass," the otter stated and motioned for the rest to follow as they disappeared into the woods, leaving the rats behind for a moment.

"Come, you should stick near us while you're injured like that," the rat spoke softly as he helped the ratmaid to her footpaws, supporting her as they left the riverbank, the otter's corpse washing into the river where hungry fish awaited their breakfast.

"We best get back to Samuel," the squirrel spoke softly as he emerged from the bush alongside a mouse, both of them having sheathed their weapons for the time being.

"Aye, this could upset his plans greatly, we best make haste," the mouse replied before eyeing the otter's corpse as it drifted to the middle of the river, "What should we do about him?"

"Leave him, there is no spirit to save anymore," the squirrel asserted, tail flicking nervously as he beckoned the mouse into the woods, both of them disappearing into the woods, heading east so they would not intercept the others.

**_(Updated: 4-12-2007)_ **


	4. 03 ::The Calm::

_**-Fires Of Mossflower-**_

_**-Part Three –The Calm-**_

The day was nearly half gone when the infirmary keeper finally allowed Kyin to leave her care, his orders being to relax for the day and let his wound heal. At the very least it was a pretty day, most of the abbeybeasts working in the orchard after the noontide picnic, but Kyin found himself left alone for the moment, much to his satisfaction. The otter found his mind preoccupied by the dream he had had, or rather the bits and pieces of the dream for most of it was merely the sense of dread, which had accompanied his subconscious imaginings.

And so it was that the otter found himself resting beneath an apple tree—its fruit still ripening on the branches—allowing the suns rays to lull him to sleep, the pieces of his dream fading away into the nether regions of his subconscious. Slowly the world faded a bit and h found himself half-consciously wondering how he had found so much time alone in the confines of the abbey, but soon enough that question answered itself.

"So, I hear that ye cracked open yer brains, wot!" a voice chirped and opening his eyes, Kyin found himself staring into the upside down face of a hare.

"No thanks to you I bet," the otter accused, but it was merely a empty gesture to get the hare riled up.

"Oh don't worry, mate. Yer memory's just a tad hazy I'll bet, wot!" the hare answered with a smile before continuing in a more condemning tone, "At least I'm not the one pretending he's a bloomin' squirrel, wot…"

"Oh, so I'm the one who thinks he's a squirrel, eh?" Kyin replied, looking up to where the hare's footpaws were wrapped about one of the lower branched of the tree.

"Aye, and not a great one if I do say so meself," the hare shot back quickly before flipping himself to the ground with a flourish, "I'd say the ol' bushy tails would be jealous of that."

"I s'pose they might," the otter responded with a chuckle, "So, 'ow long d'ye think you're gonna be here?"

"Well, sah, I s'pose that we could be 'ere as long as a fortnight longer, haven't heard of any pressing news off on the ol' fire mountain, wot!" he replied with a bright smile, sliding down against the tree next to the otter, "Much rather the abbey than that stuffy ol' mountain anyways."

"An' I dun s'pose that y'all would be missin' the spring feast no would ye, Bohdan, me ol' messmate," Kyin inquired wryly, using a bit of the otter slang he had picked up from Skipper, smiling as the hare's eyes lit up in anticipation.

"No, I don' believe any 'are in their right head would go an' miss a Redwall feast, wot," he responded with playful punch in the arm, before jumping to his footpaws, "Now lets see wot ye have ta say about that."

"I'll have quite a bit when I'm sittin' atop of you!" the otter yelled as the hare took of through the orchard, Kyin close on his tail. However, the otter didn't get very far before he found his ear in somebeast's vice grip, he feet stopping just in time to prevent them from departing from the rest of his body.

"An' I thought you were told to take it easy, Kyin, now weren't you?" a feminine voice asked as his ear was twisted ever so softly, any movement on his part almost certain to result in quite a bit of pain.

"Yes, yes!" the otter cried out, trying to work his ear from the beast's grip, turning his head to find himself staring into the infirmary assistant's eyes.

"Now go back to yer tree, I don't believe anybeast wants to see your skull cracked on," Maleah spoke softly now, allowing the younger otter to stand up straight as she glanced about for his accomplice, "An' I do believe you would rather not see that as well, eh Bohdan?"

"Yes, ma'am…" the hare muttered as he stepped out of the bush, eyes draped over his face in what Kyin assumed was practiced shame.

"Now, promise me that ye won't be slaying my patient today," the maid requested in a curt voice, a few sniggers heard from the beasts whom were still busy with the orchard, thankful for a bit of entertainment.

"Oh, yes, marm," the hare cried out, bending onto one knee and bowing to the ottermaid with a flourish of his paws, almost as though he were bowing to the badgerlord himself, "I do decree that I shall not slay my friend this day and that he will fight to see another day!"

"Not helping…" Kyin muttered as a few scatterings of laughter rose from the orchard, leaving the ottermaid with a rather dumbfounded look upon her face.

"Do I need to find yer mum, my overly eloquent friend?" the maid threatened and the hare quickly clammed up, retreating towards the tree as Maleah released his ear.

"Waterdog couldn't recognize talented acting if it took a bite out o' 'er rudder…" the hare muttered darkly once the pair was out of earshot, sliding down against the tree alongside Kyin.

"Ye really ought not to be pulling that sort of stuff…one day it could get you killed," the otter warned, before a smile appeared on his face, "Less of course, yer plannin' on joining a circus, mate."

"A circus?!" Bohdan cried out, staring daggers at his friend.

"Aye, I can picture it now," he exclaimed, leaping to his footpaws, "Bohdan the clown! You could be a tumbler, I'll bet."

"Bohdan the clown!" the hare looked as though he were about to choke on his own breath.

"Aye, you'd show those squirrels a thing or two!" he replied, doing a hand stand before rolling away from the hare's incoming kick.

"I'll show you a thing or two! Git back here, you rudder-tailed cur!" Bohdan ordered, giving chase to the otter as he ducked behind the tree. From a distance Maleah watched with a sigh as began trudging over to the pair. It was to be a very long afternoon. That much was certain.

---

Above the orchards a mousemaid watched the scene from her bedroom window in the gatehouse's loft, she allowed herself a small chuckle as she saw the youths running from the rather exasperated ottermaid.

"Kyin, you're going to have to grow up sometime…" she whispered softly as she left the window, forcing herself back into the confines of her room. She had known the otter in his younger years, one of the many orphans Redwall seemed to attract, now certainly one of the more upstanding youngbeasts of the abbey. Save of course for when he found the hare in his company, but the hare too would come of age, she knew this for a fact, having seen quite a few dibbuns through the rigors of abbey life. Moving to her bed, she ran a paw along the surface of the blankets, searching for his indentation in the bed.

_If only you were still here to see him through, I'm sure he'd make you proud… _she murmured to herself as she slipped onto the bed, clutching her knees to her chest as she let out a small sigh. It had been nearly three seasons since he had left, gone to heed the call to arms in the south. The King of Southsward himself had sent an envoy to retrieve the warrior of Redwall and that had been. And of course, with warriors blood running through his veins, he had heeded the call, taking a half a dozen or so of Skipper's best warriors with him.

"Oriana, ma'am?" a small voice asked, shaking the maid from her ruminations as she glanced to the door to find a young ferret standing there, a small tray of vittles in his paws, "I brought you lunch, straight from the Friar, himself."

"Oh, that was kind of you, Rieran," she said with a small smile, shaking her head as the ferret set the tray down on a small nearby table, "I've told before though, you needn't squander your time so."

"I simply wish to pay my thanks, ma'am," he replied, shuffling his footpaws a bit as he stared out of the window.

"I know, but you should know by now that you needn't repay me. This is Redwall after all," she stated, beckoning for the ferret, "And besides, a youngbeast like yourself should be concerned with play, not with chores and such."

"Yeah…I know, I'm just more comfortable up here," the ferret admitted, bowing his head slightly before glancing out the window, "Isn't that why you're up here?"

"Yes, I s'pose, but that's different…" she spoke softly, before glancing up at the ferret to find a small smile forming at the corners of his mouth, but it was what was behind the ferret that gave the mousemaid reason to smile. "I s'pose I'm not the one to be giving you orders, but I know somebeast that is."

"Huh?" he murmured before a paw grabbed onto his shoulder and in turning he found a stout little mouse, standing beside the bed, a rather emotionless expression on his face, "Oh, um, hi, Jerrick…"

"I thought we had a history lesson, young one, did we not?" the hedgehog asked, causing the ferret to blush beneath his fur as he stammered.

"Oh, um…yeah, I guess it slipped my mind," the ferret stuttered, looking to the mousemaid for help, but she gave no hint of that happening.

"Well, I suppose that we best get to studying. I don't believe I shall fault you for keeping missus Oriana company," the mouse replied, giving the maid a nod as the ferret followed the mouse out of the room.

"We've got ourselves an interesting recorder, albeit…" the maid whispered softly as the pair disappeared from her sight. "I s'pose that some fresh air would do me some good here…I doubt he would appreciate if I didn't smell like a dusty attic when he returns…"

_If he returns…_ she thought glumly as she rose from the bed, slipping from the confines of the gatehouse as quietly as she could, avoiding the room where Jerrick was involved in giving Rieran a rather in-depth history of Redwall, if she heard them right they were currently immersed in the times of Joseph the Bellmaker.

"Ah…nearly to Southsward they are…" Oriana whispered to herself as she slipped out onto the ramparts of the abbey, thankful that everybeast was elsewhere for the day, most of them having retired from the orchard to escape to noontide sun. She closed her eyes as the sun washed over her body, a cooling breeze blowing through her fur as she leaned against the wall of the gatehouse, staring out at the dusty path to Redwall.

_It seems so long ago…_ she stood in the same spot seasons ago, watching her warrior dissapear down the path, unsure of whether or not he would return. She held some confidence back then, but over the season it had began and despite her efforts, she began to think, remembering those last moments.

---

_It had been a beautiful day when the word came. It was only the beginning of spring, but already the flowers and trees had burst eagerly into life. The springtime sun had, in a matter of weeks, washed away the dreary sameness of the winter's snows. It was nearly time for the preparation to begin for the annual spring feast._

_That was when the squirrel came to Redwall. He had been dreadfully weak when he first arrived in the infirmary. With nary the strength to lift his footpaws another step, he was found outside on the path by Sister Salan as she was gathering herbs for the infirmary. He spent his first few days in the abbey infirmary, trapped in feverish dreams that must have been something from Hellgates._

"_The shadow…the shadow…it's here…it's here…" the squirrel would cry out in his sleep, thrashing against the straps which bound him to the infirmary bed, the infirmary keeper helpless to do anything, but cool his fever in the hopes that he would pull through. _

"_The shadow…everybeast…everybeast…gone…" I would carry on like this for hours, keeping everybeast on their footpaws at night and scaring the dibbuns something awful, at least until Maleah, then only just out of her dibbunhood as an apprentice to Sister Salan, found an old sleep remedy that kept the squirrel in a more docile state._

_Eventually he regained his mind and was able to communicate proper, though his fever persisted. He explained that he was a messenger of the kingdom of Southsward, sent to a deliver a message to their allies in the north, namely Redwall and Salamandastron.  
_

_She could still remember when Samuel came back that night, looking as though he had been through a long bout of dry ditch fever. There was a fire in his eyes to be certain, but buried beneath the warrior light was a cold fear, which held the mouse in its iron grip._

"_What is it?" She knew he was trying to hide it, but she knew the look. She saw through the façade and she felt his fear as well._

"_You love me, Oriana…don't you?" those were the first words to leave his mouth much to the mousemaid's dismay._

"_Of course I do…why would you ask such a thing?"_

"_I have to go away for a while, Oriana and I know not when I'll be back," the warrior mouse whispered as they sat upon the bed they had shared through was felt like countless, joyful seasons._

"_Where are you going?" she remembered asking, but the mouse simply shook his head, pausing to consider her words.  
_

"_To the south, to Southsward, but that's not the point…"_

"_Then what is the point?" she asked softly, pulling him closer, running a paw through his headfur gently, the hairs tinged with moisture._

"_I just want to know that you love me and that you will wait," he replied, taking her paws in his own._

"_You know I will, but…why do you have to go?" Oriana had pressed, squeezing his paws tightly._

"_It is my duty. If I do not protect the innocent, then who will?" he had responded, but his voice lacked sincerity in his words._

"_Don't tell me that…" she muttered, feeling an anger beginning to well up inside her.  
_

"_It is true, it is the warrior's code," he explained haphazardly, voice stuttering slightly. _

"They must have their own warriors, and besides, Redwall needs you as well."

"We have many warriors, Skipper will still be here to protect the abbey-" he began, but Oriana silenced him with a paw. 

"_But I need you…"_

"_Do not worry, Oliana, I will return to Redwall, I don't know how long it will be, but know that I will return. All the world could not conspire to keep me from you," he stated boldy, voice dripping with confidence. It was all for her benefit she knew and still she could sense the fear in his eyes, the uncertainty, buried beneath hope, "I love you, Oriana, with all my being."_

"_I know, I love you as well," she echoed in a hollow voice as she clutched her love tightly._

_They had left the conversation there, preferring to lie in each other's arms and simply enjoy the sounds of their own breathing in the silent room. By that time the next morning came, she found herself alone, with only the soft indentation of the warrior's body to remind her of him. She found herself staring into the new day's sun, a paw gently gliding along the indentation, tracing the contours he had left as her tears stained the sheets._

"_Please come back," she whispered into the empty room, a soft breeze whistling through the orchard her only answer._

---

"Are you still out there?" she asked the winds, but she knew no answer would come, a stray tears fell from her eyes as she considered the dark thoughts which plagued her mind. She could see I clearly. He lay dead in some foreign field, an enemy's sword through him, she could only imagine his last thoughts…perhaps he wished he had stayed.

_Perhaps he should have…it wasn't his fight…_ she wondered silently, trying to rationalize the warrior instinct, but she knew that there was no denying his warrior spirit, he couldn't just say no after all. He had his honor as a warrior, and besides, she was safe at Redwall. _Physically at the very least…_

"I love you," she whispered softly, praying for the winds to carry her words to the warrior, "I will wait for the day you return, no matter how many seasons it takes…"

_I love you, Samuel…_


End file.
